


The Choice To Stay

by LittleSpoole



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Existential Crisis, F/M, Heavy Petting, Hurt/Comfort, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27414577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpoole/pseuds/LittleSpoole
Summary: After a close brush with death, you reconsider your choice to join the Enterprise. A certain Commanding Officer wants a chance to convince you to stay.
Relationships: William Riker & Reader, William Riker/Original Female Character(s), William Riker/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	1. An Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all, I am very new to the fandom. At the time of writing this I am on S2E18 "Up The Long Ladder". So, I don't have a strong grasp of cannon, I don't know if this plot runs similar to a later episode, I just love this chaotic space slut and I need an outlet. I will post new chapters every Friday or so. Follow me on tumblr theifbaby.tumblr.com for requests, questions, and more.

Despite housing thousands of crew, the Enterprise was strangely lonely. Once the chaos of an away mission or close brush with another ship was over, folks tended to just go back to their rooms. No one was in 10 Forward but Guinan, the halls were empty, no one was spending their rest in the holodecks. Having a single room was certainly a privilege you were happy to have most days, but after this mission, you wished to have someone to debrief with. Someone to discuss the strangeness of what had occurred. Instead, you sat in the window of your shipside room, watching the stars and the distant mass of Zeda XII pass by languidly. 

The 3 days it took to negotiate the safe return of Commander Riker and his away team put a strain on the whole ship. Over various comm calls, his cries of pain could be heard in the background. He had often been the subject of cruelty by various enemies, but this time there was a true fear that he may be killed. A skillfully timed shot by Lieutenant Worf had ended the negotiations and brought the team home, but there was a deep sense of uneasiness amongst the entire ship. So much so that the ship was on a rendezvous mission with a nearby space station to discuss the ever-growing boldness of the Romulan sect known as Han-Suu. You sipped the tea in your hand. What would we have done, you wondered, if that renegade Romulan had made good on his promises to finish the Riker line right then and there? You had always known there was a chance you would die in space, but this readjusted many things. This made you reconsider if a life in the service of advancing the galaxy was… worth your life. Unmarried, barely into your 20s, the entire universe ahead of you, and it became so clear that one crazed, negligent insurgent could take that from you without a care. With one fatal press of a button, you would be space dust.

Your head jerked as you saw a ripple in your teacup. You touched your face to feel a wetness you had not realized was there as another tear landed in the cup. You stood up and shook your head. Crying over possibilities was not in the makings of a Starfleet officer. You set the tea back in the base for your room’s replicator to let it recycle and left your quarters. Something had to change if you were ever going to feel better, and with an early morning bridge shift coming, you couldn’t just sit miserably for hours. 

You took a left turn and walked towards the educational wing. The schools had been closed for all the days of the conflict, and there was surely no one there now. You passed the dozens of classrooms, all with their lights dimmed, full of coloring book pages, blocks, books, and chairs of varying size. It was quaint, these slices of life. You stopped at a door covered in little papers, at the top they all read “WHEN I GROW UP I WILL …”. The answers brought a smile to your lips. A doctor, a settler on a class D planet, a writer. They were cute until you saw “A Starfleet Captain” written by a child named Delany. You paused. How could someone bring a child into space? If today had gone the way you feared… you looked back down the hall. Dozens of rooms, each hosting dozens of students. The math made you ill. You briskly walked out of the education wing. 

You rounded the corner into the medical wing. There was a soft whirring of medical instruments, but it was otherwise silent. You walked along the dim corridor until you came to another port window. Zeda XII was long gone, and a broken asteroid belt containing the remnants of a planet once called Greenhaak was floating by. Its streaks of red and gold from the rust deposits were stunning, but all you could see was the death. The planet had imploded nearly 3000 years before due to a combustion in its core, killing millions without warning. By the time Starfleet had gotten to this region, it had been gone for centuries. 

As you stood staring, the tears came back, biting at your eyes. How could a world like this exist? How was this fair? The residents of Greenhaak were theorized to be capable of space flight, but they had no forewarning of the planet’s destruction. Had they known, would they have all lived? Or died in fear of the unstoppable?

Which ending would you face?  
You hadn’t realized your soft tears had turned to full sobs until a strong hand grasped your shoulder. You turned from the shimmering abyss to see an all too familiar face.

“Hey, are you alright?” Commander Riker’s knit eyebrows and shining eyes were upon you.

You felt something inside you die. No, this was not supposed to be how your first personal interaction with the second in command of your ship. 

You attempted to sound in control of yourself, but hiccupped your way through saying “Yes, sir.” You hastily wiped a tear off your face and stood up straight. He was unconvinced.

“No need for the sir stuff,” he consoled you. “Why don’t you, uh… here.” He pointed down the hall and gently lead you with his hand still on your shoulder. You followed, sure that this was going to be a reprimand despite his calm demeanor. 

He walked briskly down the rest of the medical wing, and with a sharp left entered the near-bridge portion of the ship. He opened a door and bade you inside. You entered instinctively, expecting an office or one of the several ready-rooms in the vicinity of the enterprise. When you saw the more personal sofas and tables, and especially when you saw the bed tucked back behind a large curtain in the corner, you paused and turned back to look at the Commander. He smiled gently and gestured towards one of the plush seats. 

“Please,” he was gentle. “Make yourself comfortable. Tonight is not a night to be alone. What can I get you from the replicator?” You tried to shake your head, but he lifted a hand. “You need something to help you. Tea, coffee, water… something stronger?”

“Just a green tea with lemon.” you choked out. He nodded and dutifully had it made. 

When he returned, he handed you the warm mug and had a glass of his own, a whiskey from the looks of it. He sat down across from you. “So, what makes an otherwise very strong and competent officer like yourself cry in the medical wing at such an hour?”

You sipped slowly and let the warmth fill you. You looked at his face. He was severely injured, his eyebrow had a nasty gash and there were bruises across his face and neck. You glanced a look at his hand around his glass. The knuckles were wrapped with gauze that needed to be changed. He was in rough shape. 

“Well, sir -”

“Just Will.” he corrected lightly. 

“Well… W-Will. It would be the same reason that you’re in the shape you’re in.” He cocked an eyebrow. “What I mean is… we often have these brushes with death, right? Every other week there is some conflict that could take our lives if not handled perfectly. But this time…” you felt the tears gathering again “This time things were just too close and I am so scared that there will be a time where things go beyond… close.” 

You couldn’t meet his gaze. You sipped your tea. He was quiet for a long time.

“Today’s events have you reconsidering your choices to join this crew?” He asked. After a while, you nodded and met his eyes. He was not angry, nor was he in agreement. He nodded and looked down at his glass. “You know, I can tell you this, as I was being torn up in the Romulan holding cell, I reconsidered a lot of choices I had made up to that point.” He smiled at you. “Every time we lose a crewmember, my mind is full of questions. What could I have done better? Where did I go wrong? Whose fault is this?”

You nodded solemnly. “Do you… do you answer those?”

He gave you a half-smile. “If I did, I would have left many years ago.” He sipped his drink. “Are you thinking about getting off at Starbase 325?” 

Now, this felt confrontational. You HAD considered it. The base was within proximity to a larger transport center. You could be back on earth within 6 months, or anywhere in the galaxy for that matter. But your contract still had 2 years on it. You eyed him carefully.

“Are you?” 

He smiled at your answer and set the glass down. He leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “I consider it every single time. Every time we take leave, I think ‘This place is nice, this place is safe, this could work out well.’ But when I think about the Enterprise taking off without me, well… I know what my choice has to be.” 

“Because it’s your… home?” you asked.

“Because I am a very possessive man, and the idea of Data filling my shoes already keeps me up at night. I’d rather that only be done in an emergency, not by my selfish choice.” That word ‘possessive’ filled your mind with new ideas not appropriate for such an occasion. he eyed you up and down. “I never caught your name.”

“[Y/N],” you said. “Communications officer.”

“That part I knew,” he smiled. “I remember your quick thinking got us out of that nasty situation in the Parnesk Sector.”

You blushed. Your tea was nearly empty. 

“Can I get you something else?” He stood and tapped his own glass. “I seem to be thirsty than I thought.”

“Oh, if I drink more tea tonight I will be awake until my bridge shift.”

“I’m lucky enough to get you on the bridge today?” he grinned wider. “What a treat. Well, if not tea, can I get you something more relaxing?” 

He took the mug gingerly, his index finger brushing against your hand as he did. There was a spark there you hadn’t anticipated. He either hadn’t felt it or was really good at hiding it because his face showed no shock like yours surely did. He returned from the replicator with two glasses of a pale pink substance in a long thin glass. As he handed yours to you, he gestured to the open seat next to you.

“May I?” you nodded as you moved to sip the drink. It was fizzy, but not like soda. More like the liquid was making your lips and tongue tingly as it moved past them. It was a cold drink, but it made everything it touched feel warm. Riker must have seen how your knit your eyebrows in confusion.

“Heelsian Fringewater. It’s a wine-like drink made from their native flower, the Juu’lon.” He sipped it as well and sighed. “When I first saw Heelsian 6, I thought it was a wasteland. But as soon as they brought out this drink, I understood why they neglected massive parts of the planet. Why terraform anything more than what you need to create a lifetime supply of this?”

You sipped again and met his eyes. Damn, how could a man have such gorgeous eyes? You studied them, the deep blue color, the giddy laugh lines at the corners, the insanely long lashes on each. 

You realized you hadn’t said anything for several moments. He smiled.

“You alright?” He prodded gently.

You quickly sipped more of the drink, understanding now why a serving was so small. “I am fine, yes.” He was unconvinced.

“[Y/N], you’re not a bad officer for having second thoughts. I would never trust an officer that doesn’t fear death, that’s a man who makes rash decisions he never lives to see the result of.” He finished his drink and reached his hand out to your thigh. He didn’t grab. He simply touched. 

“But may I have a chance to convince you to stay?”


	2. An Evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am now on S3E3. I may write a rewrite of the S2 finale because that shit sucked. Anyway, enjoy it!

His hand weighed heavily on your thigh. You stared at it for a long time, too long, because he started to pull it away. Without thinking, you reached out to stop it from leaving. Your hand covered his and pressed it back into place. You looked up at him. His smile said caution, but his eyes were primed.

“Commander…” You sighed. The answer you wanted to say was yes, yes, an emphatic yes. You wanted him to just make the move for you so you could stop debating it. But he held at the ready, watching for your signal. “Would this be… right?” 

“Would what be right?” He pushed.

“For you… and me… to be uh, together in such a way.” You stumbled over the words. His hand was still in place under your palm. “Given that you are my superior, up the chain of command.”

He retracted his hand and you didn’t stop him. He considered you under his eye. 

“Then you’ll stay,” he asked softly “If you still see me as your boss, you’re thinking you’ll stay. You’re not making the rash call to say, spend your last night on the ship wrapped in a wild romp with your  _ former  _ superior officer.” he smiled. 

You looked back at where his hand had left your leg. It was cold now, without it. You imagined that feeling all over you, the cold that would be present without the Enterprise around you. You sighed.

“So this was all just a test of my mental fibre?” Your eyes stayed downcast.

“Not all of it.” He rose to his feet. “I knew you weren’t going to leave. Deserters don’t discuss something like that openly with their commanders”

You watched as he strode towards the large curtain covering his bed. He pulled it back to reveal a large, King-sized bed covered in plush, deep blue bedding. He tied the curtain back and looked to you.

“It’s getting late, and we are both needed on the bridge sooner than I would prefer,” he said. “The offer still stands, tonight is not a night to be alone.” 

The urge to leave was pushed only by your anxiety. Your desire to stay was louder than the howl of space. You stood.

“I don’t have my sleeping clothes,” you protested. “And I haven’t had a chance to shower since all the commotion.”

“If you like, you can go get them.” He strode towards a large door and opened it, revealing his closet. “Or if you like, I have a few choice options I’ve picked up on more peaceful away missions.” 

_ Just stay.  _

“If it’s no trouble…” you walked towards him, and he gestured towards a stack on the right-hand side. It was a gorgeous pile of luxuries. There were beautiful garments in all styles, colors, fits. You fingered through them, careful to not disturb the fine way they were folded. Eventually, you landed on a dark green and gold accented outfit that looks to be from Gratthan 7, out in the far reaches. You carefully pulled it from the stack. 

“I’ll freshen up in the shower if that’s okay.” You turned to him.

He smiled. “By all means,” he said “Whatever you need. I don’t pay the water bill, after all.”

You let yourself into his private bathroom. Bridge quarters were unlike anything you had seen in the crew areas. His large sink counter was neatly organized, just simple beard accouterments and a spare uniform. You placed the sleeping set next to them and undressed. It felt so odd that just behind that door was Will Riker, a man who could easily have you removed from the ship, promoted, anything in between. He could walk right in. 

Part of you wished he would. 

The shower was large, with a few bottles of soaps on a shelf. You adjusted it to your preferred settings, and the water was just as you asked, without waiting. You thought back on all the times you had waited in crew showers for the water to warm, just for it to cool back down as you stepped in. This was luxury.

Or better, you thought, it was a simple reward for what he went through every day. What was waiting for a shower when all you did that day was compute alien alphabets? What was a fast shower compared to what he had sustained today alone? 

You shook your head. You couldn’t just stand in here all night. You picked up the first bottle of soap and poured a little into your hand. The aroma hit you. God, it smelled like him, that faint trace you had smelled sitting next to him on the couch was already so potent. Musky, but still clean. You held it under your nose. You imagined that close, intimate spaces of him must be just like this… 

What are you thinking, to just huff soap in your commander’s shower? The spell was broken, you again remembered what was going on around you. You quickly washed your hair and stepped out.

The platform just outside the shower blew a warm breeze, drying you rather quickly. You looked in the mirror at your naked form. It was safe to say you had several critiques. Your hands brushed over the faint scars on the side of your face, a reminder of your first away mission. What were you doing here? What did you stand to gain?

You took a step back and a deep breath. He invited you in. He offered you these clothes. You were not imposing yourself into his world, he asked you into his. If nothing else, take the hospitality of tonight and avoid picking up bridge shifts in the future. You held the long, green sleeping clothes up to your chest. They were unbelievably soft and stunning in the light. You slipped the top on, then the bottoms. Altogether, you were impressed with the results. It shaped your waist charmingly and suited your upper body well. You opened the door, holding your breath.

Riker was shirtless, his back to the door as he adjusted a large gauze wrapped around his torso. It was browned in places where he had bled more, and it was clear that the damage didn’t stop there. All along his spine were fist-sized, dark purple welts as if he had been pierced along that line. When he heard the door, he turned to face you. The pain in his eyes turned to admiration.

“Wow,” he breathed “I knew that set was a good investment.” He walked towards you stiffly. He noticed your eyes fixed on his core, and took it upon himself to lift your gaze up to his eyes with a sturdy finger under your chin. “Don’t you be worrying about me. I’ve been through worse.” 

“That’s hard to believe.” You pressed a worried hand to his chest. You two were closer now and less clothed than you had ever imagined. He was intoxicating at this distance, if you just leaned in you could…

“Care to join me?” he stepped back towards the bed. “I have to warn you, I am an early riser. It takes a lot of work to look this half-assed.” 

He climbed onto the bed, taking the left side. You walked around to the right and lifted the corner of the sheets, slipping yourself inside. It was already warm, these officer beds must have automatic heating. You adjusted yourself onto your side to see Riker already watching you. 

“You seem so fascinated by me,” You murmured.

“I am,” he replied, “I am absolutely enthralled by you.” His hand reached out to your hip, pulling you closer to his body. His hands were so strong. 

“Why would a man like you, who's seen countless wonders, be so enthralled with me?”

“Because I have eyes and a heart, and..” he trailed off as you felt something press into you below the sheets. “Well, because I am a man who knows a wonder when I see one.” 

His face was only inches from yours now. The gap was ever closing. His eyes were fixed squarely on your lips as he bit down on his own.

You closed the gap. 

He closed his mouth around your kiss, matching your fervor with ease. His hand stayed locked on your hip, guiding you towards him as his hips started to move. His tongue took the lead over your mouth, his soft grunting setting a pace for your bodies. Your hand latched onto his shoulder, wishing to be even closer. To meld into one being. You wanted to feel every part of him. You were already feeling parts of him that clearly wished to feel more of you. You moaned into his kisses, which were tracing their way down your jawline, your neck, in pursuit of your collarbone. His hand left your hip to dip under the sheets and paw at the hem of your shirt. His war hands made contact with your soft body and sparked your core. A deep longing grew from it. He pushed it up further and further until your chest was exposed. His mouth and hand set to work in tandem. You moaned gratefully and threaded your fingers through his hair. You rolled your hips towards him, hopeful for any friction that might relieve the knots growing in your core. 

His lips remained committed to their work on your chest, but his hand answered the call to your needs. As his hand slipped behind your waistband, you nearly screamed. 

“May I?” His sudden speech made you jump. 

“Yes -” you pleaded as if he would pull away if not properly persuaded. 

He obliged. He repositioned so that his front was flush with your left side. You were on your back as he pressed a flat palm against your pussy. After giving you a moment to beg, his middle finger took a long, slow, deep swipe to reveal just how much he had affected you. He pressed his forehead against your left cheek. You could feel his lips smiling against your face.

“Excited?” he taunted as he again traced the length of it with two fingers this time. “We’ve only kissed a little, am I just that good?”

You moaned and bucked your hips, enticing him to give you more, but he only pulled away from you. “Patience, officer…” Slowly, his hands resumed position and began stroking. His lips came to rest against your ear. His heavy breathing filled your mind. Your mind was wracked with need. Lustful, primal need. He toyed with your clit. His thumb would press hard on its path up to it only to relent with the softest touch, denying you the contact you craved. 

“What do you want?” the coarse demand was whispered directly into your brain. 

“You…” the words left without a thought. You weren’t thinking straight. You weren’t thinking about anything at all. Just feeling.

“I want you to cum.” His fingers were taking a more direct course of action, directly filling your need. You gasped at their sudden entry. He was relentless. You were overcome. It was happening, you could feel yourself unraveling into his hand. Your entire body was pulsating, you were holding your breath, silent.

With a deafening gasp, you came. He did not stop, even as you pressed your knees together. Even as you begged. Even as your hands flew down to grasp his wrist, begging him to relent. It was too much, too good, too strong. If he fingered you another moment, you knew you’d just die. Finally, after moments of delicious begging, he removed his hand. With that, you collapsed back into the bed, panting. Little dots of light filled your eyelids. You were drenched in sweat, and sticking to the sheets. 

When your soul rejoined your body, you opened your eyes. There he was, William Riker, staring at you with a self-righteous smile. He had propped himself up on one side, one hand holding his head and one still resting on your hips. You looked at him for a long time.

“Can I uh… do something for you?” you rolled towards him.

“You do a lot for me…” He smiled “But no, not tonight.” he patted the bandage around his core. “If I get any more excited, I’ll be seeing Dr. Crusher sooner than my scheduled follow-up.” He stood to retrieve the sheets from the floor. You cleaned yourself up and redressed. After Will made the bed, the two of you met in the middle. His strong arms wrapped around you.

This was not a night to be alone. 


	3. An Entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your bridge shift leads to new discoveries for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! Sorry for my tardiness on this, both of my parents came down with COVID so my life had been a little more complex than Star Trek. Speaking of, I am now on S3E20, The Tin Man. Seriously good stuff in this season! If you are enjoying this work, feel free to shoot me a few bucks on venmo, @anyaek. Another chapter will be out within the week, God willing and the creek don't rise. Enjoy!

There was an obnoxious beeping somewhere in the room. You could hear a male voice in between the beepings, but it wasn’t clear yet. You opened your eyes to see Riker blinking awake. The voice became clear.

“Commander Riker, your presence is immediately needed on the bridge.” The familiar voice of the captain echoed through Riker’s chambers. 

“Shit.” He hissed. “Computer, what time is it?” 

“It is 5:47 AM, Commander.” The sterile chirp responded. Riker launched out of bed. He had not set the alarm the night before, and you were BOTH over 40 minutes late. You also lept out of bed, grabbing your pants and shirt hastily. Riker ran into the bathroom and began changing without shutting the door. You paused. You had yet to see him completely naked. As he stripped his sleeping pants, you couldn’t help but stare. And butt stare you did. His briefs barely held in his supple behind, which disappeared behind his work clothes. You quickly stripped as well and jumped back into your uniform from the day before. 

“Time to go!” He lightly jogged to the door and you followed after. He paused in the doorframe before activating it. He looked at you with considering eyes and gave you a quick peck on the lips. “Hey, do you wanna grab dinner on the starbase tonight?” 

“I’d love that if I’m not fired by then.” you chirped back.

“Yeah, if only you had a friend higher up to make sure that won’t happen.” He smirked and opened the door. The two of you walked with appropriate distance to the bridge. The lift doors swooshed open to the faces of the bridge officers expectant stares.

“Ah, Number One.” You could hear Piccard as Riker rushed out of the lift. “Care to explain your absence?”

“Good morning sir.” He was chirping playfully back as you rushed to your station from behind him, hoping no one would draw connections between your synchronized arrival. “Wouldn’t you know it, I had such a kink in my back this morning! Took a little extra time getting out of bed.” 

Sitting at the damage control booth next to your small communications annex was B’evorna, a short but mighty half-Vulcan woman who had been your close friend at the Academy. She shot you a confused glance as you took your seat.

“Did you get stuck in traffic?” She asked under her breath.

“Would you believe I did?” You responded as you queued up the day’s roster: still heading towards Starbase 325 at a relaxed warp 4, passing through sector A45 which was mostly uninhabited. There wouldn’t be much for you to do today if all went according to plan.

You could hear Picard catching Riker up on what he had missed, and you risked a glance at him over your right shoulder. He was so handsome standing at attention, listening intently to Picard detail their upcoming meeting with Starfleet strategists to outline their attack plan against the Han-Suu outposts in Derla XI. He caught your look and offered a subtle wiggle of his brow back when Picard was turned to the main viewer. You idled too long though, as Lieutenant Worf also caught the look. 

“Is there an issue, officer [Y/N]?” demanded as he approached your station.

“No, sir.” You responded, turning back to your station. 

“Is there something you wanted to share with me or Commander Riker?” You looked back at him again and saw Riker was also looking on. He clearly caught the concern in your eyes. 

“Oh, Officer [Y/N], did you get the supply list I sent to you? You’ve translated it?” Riker called over Worf’s station. He was throwing you a much-needed line.

“Aye, sir.” You nodded at him and Worf. “I just wanted to let you know I was sending it now.”

“Excellent work,” Riker beamed. “See Worf, sometimes these new graduates do know what they’re doing!” 

Worf eyed you with suspicion. “It is best to remain focused on your tasks and complete them without jovial display, officer.” He snarled.

“Aye, sir.” You nodded briskly, as you had learned it was the only sincere form of communication he would take from someone of your position. After a moment, he returned to his post. You could feel B’evorna’s eyes cutting into you.

“What is going on with you?” She whispered.

“Nothing, I promise.” You hastily finished translating the supply list into Cromacian and sent it off to one of the settlements you’d be visiting after the stop at Starbase 325. 

“Are you doing okay?” She asked. “I came to your quarters last night to check-in and you never answered the door.”

“I’m sorry, I should have left an away message.” You typed away at side work to remain busy. “I went for a walk, I’m better now.”

You saw her shrug. Eventually, you would have to tell her about this update to your life. But what would be the point of telling her now? You had no reason to be sure that this was anything more than a trauma-induced fling. 

“We are set to intercept starbase 325 in 6 hours, sir.” You heard the young Weasley Crusher announce to the bridge crew. You again were flooded with the thoughts from last night’s conversation. What if you did leave? The base was near several transport hubs, you could be long gone before anyone knew. The edges of the universe were within reach if you could only shake free of these chains. These beautiful, gossamer chains…

“Officer!” Worf bellowed for what must have been the 3rd time. You nearly jumped out of your skin. 

“Y-yes? Yes sir?” you spun to face him, frightened of what your daydreaming had caused you to miss.

“The captain has attempted to call your attention 3 times now, officer. Do you need to report to sickbay?” Worf growled at you.

“No, sir!” You stood up. “What is it that you need, captain?” It suddenly flooded you that this was the first time you were speaking directly to the captain. 

He studied you with narrow eyes. “Officer [Y/N], am I correct in remembering that you are fluent in Romulan and the regional dialect of Garoosh-Taav?” 

“That’s correct, sir.” You nodded and tried your very best to not lock eyes with Riker, or worse, Deanna Troi a few feet behind Picard, who was surely sensing every drop of what happened last night. You knew from ship rumors that Deanna and Will had been an item early on in the voyage, but that they had split after several attempts at normality failed. “I am fluent in several of the Romulan sublanguages, and if the theories are correct that the Han-Suu are using a pigeon of Garoosh-Taav and Bell-Anglo Romulan, I would most likely be able to decipher that as well.”

He nodded decisively. “Excellent, we have several intercepted correspondences that need to be reviewed. Given that we have a rather relaxed arrival to Starbase 325, I assume you would be able to dedicate your shift to the benefit of their translation, correct? Are you up for that?” 

“Yes, sir.” You knew what he was hinting at. You had not made a satisfactory impression on the captain. 

“Mr. Data, please transfer files K8H through Q9X to Officer [Y/N]’s station.” You heard the chime behind you confirm the transfer. “Please, do not hesitate to alert Mr. Worf or Mr. Data of anything useful pertaining to the locating of the Han-Suu outposts or their suppliers. Starfleet will have several questions regarding that upon our arrival.” With that, he sat in his chair and resumed his chatter with Riker. You sat to review the files. 

Holy shit. 

As the terminal whirred to auto-translate what it could, you saw hundreds of pages in the summary. Most would not be handled by the computer, as the relatively new bartering language used by the infamous Han-Suu was not widely used enough for it to have a comprehensive lingua franca. This was going to be as much manual work as any xenolinguist could anticipate. 

* * *

You had compiled a basic alphabet. The computer couldn’t make sense of it, but it was a basic transliteration that you could phonetically sound out and translate word by word. Many of the things English had one word for took 5 or even 6 in the pigeon, so once you had a handle on the first chunk, the rest could be done by rote. As you got down the basics, the computer AI started taking on auto-translating basic prepositions, nouns, and recurring phrases. Your eyes burned. Your back ached. You had not looked up from your terminal in what felt like hours. You heard the turbolift doors woosh open.

“Commander, how many times must one be hailed to report to sickbay?” The distinctive motherly tone of Dr. Crusher brought you back to reality. You looked up to see her marching down to where Will was seated. 

“Doctor, I assure you, there is nothing new to be seen.” He held up his hands to reassure, but he looked more defensive than anything. 

“Riker, you sustained serious damage to your spine and neck -”

“Nothing a weekend at the starbase’s spa lounge can’t heal.” He laughed. 

“You do not have medical clearance for the spa lounge, not until I confirm that your wounds have sealed properly.” She huffed. “I assure you, this will only take a few minutes, we could have been halfway done by now had you come at your scheduled time.”

“Number One, we still have several hours before we see the starbase, why don’t you quell Dr. Crusher’s concerns and report back after?” The captain prodded. 

“Well,” Riker relented. “Only because you all asked so nicely." With that, he walked off. As he entered the turbolift with Crusher, he shot you one quick wink and a smirk. A parting gift. 

“What is with you today?” B’evorna demanded.

“I am just trying to get these transmissions finished.” You turned back to the terminal. “It is mostly just boring posturing and vague references to old Romulan myths, but it still needs to be done.”

“I mean you and the commander.” You met her eyes. “Ah, there’s no hiding it now. Your feeble human blushing tells me all I need to know.”

“You know you’re half-human too.” You pushed back. “Do you blush green?”

“It takes a lot for Vulcan blood to pool on the facial nerves like that,” she mused. “But I bet a night with my commanding officer would do it.” Her smug grin shone on her otherwise stern face.

“B’evorna, you have such a wonderful imagination. Have you ever thought about writing a book?” You nudged her with your elbow as you typed. 

“My people would call it intuition.” She nudged back. There was no hostility in her correctly guessing why you were so off today. Years ago, when all you had to worry about were Starfleet exams, you and B’evorna would frequent the campus bars. You two were a force of nature. B’evorna could always sus out if you went home alone or not when she saw you in class the next day, and usually knew who the other involved person was as well. She was no psychic or Betezed, she was just a great friend. Her analytical mind used to help determine which man was the best target out of a pack of Command Track bros, now it traced the best path through the stars. How much had changed in 6 short years?

“You were never wrong before,” you smiled. “But right now it’s not… real, you know? Don’t go around telling anyone about this.”

“Who would I tell? My roommate is a Benzite, he couldn’t care less about the matters of human sexuality.” She smirked. “Though he does routinely bring another Benzite male to the room. They just sit and converse about their mundane opinions for hours at a time. Do you think that’s how they flirt?” 

“Could be…” You were studying a line in the text intently. “Pah-mar-nyaag… Pah-mar… that can’t be right.” You muttered.

“What?” B’evorna responded as she worked.

“It’s just… this word must be written incorrectly.” You chuckled half-heartedly. “Because this is a word for _mole_.” 

* * *

“And you’re sure this is the correct translation?” Picard templed his fingers as he slowly turned his chair from side to side. Upon informing Mr. Worf of your discovery, he had pulled you and Picard into the ready room.

“I am, sir.” You wrung your hands behind your back. “I cross-referenced the Romulan phrases for traitor, and they are similar to ours. The term literally refers to an invasive rat-worm hybrid that is native to Romulus, but in context, we would say a ‘mole’.”

“And it is implied that this mole is aboard the ship as we speak?”

“Yes.” You replied. 

Picard’s weary glance turned to Worf. “Do you have any ideas?” 

“We could send out multiple strategies plans to different departments on the ship and trace which plan the Han-Suu follow.” He replied. “If we tell engineering that we will attack Theta 9 by way of Gorman L, and the Romulans send a warbird to that sector, we know that this, er, Rat-worm is somewhere in engineering.”

“Yes, but at some point, the whole ship must be unified in a plan. We cannot cause any more confusion than we already have.” Picard sighed. “Thank you for this update, Officer. How many of the transmissions remain?”

“Just 5, sir. All from the past few days.”

“Well, I will leave you to it. Perhaps one of those will shine new light on this mystery. Speak of this to no one, clear?” 

You nodded and exited the ready room. Just then, Riker returned from the turbolift. His eyes flashed as he saw where you had just been.

“Getting called to the principal’s office?” He asked in passing. His light brush against you as he passed sent shivers through you. You remained composed facially, but as you passed Deanna, you knew that she knew. 

You took your seat. A few more pages couldn’t take that long, could they? 

**Author's Note:**

> More to come next week!


End file.
